


The Lovebird and the Pun-King

by Otaku_girl



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, ALL the tags, Abuse, Aggressive Sans, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cinnamon Roll Papyrus (Undertale), Cute meet, Depression, Drama, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Gen, Halloween, Happy Ending, Healing, Holidays, Hurt, I’m sorry I tried gender neutral and failed, Misunderstandings, Past Abuse, Plot, Post Pacifist Ending, Pre-Romance, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sans is a bit OOC?, Self Harm, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts, Valentines, am I missing any tags?, but not from the skelebros, eventually, font brothers - Freeform, hurt comfort, mentions of abuse, perfect cinnamon roll, reader is female, this was meant to be pure fluff, wait where did this plot come from, where did that come from
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-26 10:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17744471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otaku_girl/pseuds/Otaku_girl
Summary: Love is in the air: you just want to have a word with your new neighbours about their weird valentines day decorations. Who the heck puts out pumpkins to celebrate love? And why are they trying to lure in kids like weirdos? It’s not like you are hoping to get your hands on one of these sweet-sounding nice creams they’re apparently handing out. You are just being neighbourly…(that’s it...honest!)Misunderstandings, mentions of past abuse, skele-feels, and baking. My first Undertale fic so, ah...please be gentle, and I hope you enjoy?





	1. Chapter One: Having Such A Gourd Time

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s notes: Erm...hi? Please be gentle? This is my first attempt at an Undertale fic. I have been binging stories from this awesome fandom like crazy recently. I thought I’d finally share a little something of my own because I am, apparently, trash for Sans, and I cannot get enough of this fandom (though I’ve got to admit I’m a little worried I’ll mess up the characterisation and people will be mad so… *tries to bribe all readers with tiny spaghetti-shaped cookies*) Constructive criticism and feedback is always welcomed and thoroughly appreciated.
> 
> This was planned as a one-shot, but… *shrugs* I’m really, really loving SansReader fics right now, so I might try a few more. This...was meant to be just like a 1k drabble. It kinda got a bit longer...oopsie.

“Did you see what they did to the yard?”

Humming along to your favourite song on your phone, you can’t help but pause as one earbud slips out. 

_ Darnit, I really should get around to replacing these _ . You sigh, reaching to push the cheap thing back into your ear. Your actual airpods had ‘mysteriously’ gone missing a couple of weeks earlier when your ex had come to pick up the last of his stuff whilst you were out.  _ A total coincidence my ass _ .  

“Oh my god, yes. Who still has Christmas decorations up in February, let alone Halloween!” 

Glancing over your shoulder once again, you see that the two gossiping women are still blocking the only free till. You had only dropped in to pick up a few essentials, but it looked like your quick shop and dash would be dragging on for a lot longer if they didn’t get a move on.

_ Seriously. Who cares about someone leaving their decorations out for a little longer than usual? Just move out of the way. Some of us have places to be. _

“Didn’t you hear? They only put them up last weekend.” 

“No!”

“Hm-hm. I heard there were trying to lure kids in with candy and everything.”

“What is the neighbourhood coming to these days?”

Shooting one last, longing look at the soda the two women were still blocking, you sigh again. It’s not like you really need it to have a movie night all by yourself. Again.

_ Maybe I’ll just pick up some vodka or something? I should still have some amaretto left...I’ll just grab another couple of pints of milk and, voila! White Russians. Who needs stupid soda anyway. _

* * *

It had been a long week. If you were being honest with yourself, it had been a long six freaking months. First, you’d caught the asshole sexting with some colleague of his.  _ Don’t think of her as a homewrecking bitch. It’s not her fault the bastard didn’t mention he was already seeing someone. How was she supposed to know?  _ Then, he’d begged you to stay.  _ It’ll never happen again my ass. _

You’d caught him with his tongue down another girl’s throat and his hand up her frankly awesome Lapis cosplay skirt at your own damn Halloween party. Somehow, it became your fault for working too many hours and being ‘emotionally unavailable’ and ‘insensitive to his needs’. 

You… still have no idea how he thought he could swing that one; sure, you worked a lot of hours, but you had to. How else were you going to afford bills, student loan repayments, and to keep your junker of a car running otherwise? It’s not like he ever offered to split the bill with you 50-50 or anything. 

“It’s your name on the mortgage, why should I have to pay half?” He’d always said. _ What a dick. _

Trying to get him to move out had been… painful, in more ways than one.  _ It’s over and done with now. Don’t dwell on the past.  _

Still, it seemed like your streak of bad luck wasn’t over yet. With a hold on paid overtime and still a good two weeks before your next payday,  _ of course _ today day of all the days had to be when your piece of crap of a car finally gave up the ghost and stopped working. 

_ Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. At least it’s Friday; that give me, like, two whole days of cocktails, the Netflix marathon to end all marathons, plus time to clean the place up a bit. Maybe if I take in a lodger or something, I might be able to replace ol’ rusty.  _

Lost in thought, you trudge back the eight blocks towards your small but (generally) well-kept house. You’d been lucky to find somewhere available in such a good neighbourhood. It kind of felt like the only piece of good luck you’d had in years, looking back on things.

_ I’ve got a roof over my head, enough groceries to see me through until payday, and there’s only a very slight chance they’ll cut off the electricity over the next couple of weeks. Everything’ll be fine.  _

As you round the final corner, you fumble in your pocket, trying to find your keys. “I know you’re in there somewhere… c’mon, come ooooon.” You shuffle your bags from one arm to the other, trying not to drop your precariously balanced supplies.  _ I swear to god, if the vodka breaks after dragging it this far... _

Leaning over your small once-white picket fence, you lower your groceries down with an unsteady hand. “Don’t tell me I left them at the store.” You whine under your breath. You really couldn’t face making the trip there and back again.

You crouch down, upending your messenger bag as you go.  _ They’ve got to be in here somewhere. Please, why can’t just one nice thing happen for me today? _

Feeling along the lining, you let out a sigh of relief. Your fingers close around the cool, smooth surface of your keys.

“Finally! Something… nice?” Glancing at your gatepost, you frown. Was that a… nicecream wrapper just tossed in your yard? “That’s weird. I thought these things were really hard to find outside of speciality stores still…” You bend to pick it up. As you stand to turn to go towards your porch, you notice something odd about your neighbour's yard.

“Oh! The for sale sign is finally gone. I’ll have to go and say hi… wait, is that a pumpkin?”

* * *

“Why...has my new neighbour got Halloween decorations out? Why?” You mumble to yourself, peering out of your kitchen window. With the sun just beginning to set, you have to squint against the early evening glare. 

Kneading the dough for your famous sugar cookies absentmindedly, you keep an eye on the neighbour’s yard. You can see at least a dozen pumpkins of various sized from where you stand, not to mention a couple of black cats and spoopy ghost cutouts.

“It’s February.” You shake your head. With sure fingers, you sprinkle flour across the battered countertop, rolling out the dough with long, smooth strokes. Without taking your eyes off of the window, you lean across to open the top draw. Tapping a flour-coated finger against your lips, you hum to yourself.  _ Hearts? Better not; what if the new neighbours are as skeevy as the ones before last? Or what if it’s a couple who’ve just moved in, and they think I’m trying to hit on one of them? Or both of them!  _

Moving the cutters aside, you search through your mismatched collection.  _ Flowers? Eh, maybe. Stars? Too Christmassy.  _ You let out a long, unsteady sigh. “I’m overthinking this, aren’t I, Mr. Leafington?” You smile at the small, sad looking cactus sitting beside the sink. You’d toyed with the idea of getting a pet ever since your ex had left, but couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it. It didn’t seem fair to leave some poor rescue puppy or cat by itself for such long hours. A potted plant had seemed like the perfect compromise at the time.

“Why do I always do this? I bet they won’t even care what shape the cookies are. I mean, who doesn’t love free cookies?” Sticking your tongue out in concentration, you thrust your hand back into the draws. Rummaging around with your eyes firmly closed, you mumble under your breath. “Iinie, meanie, minie...this one” You pull a cutter out at random. “Lovebirds? Eh. At least it’s seasonal.”

 

* * *

 

The sun has well and truly set by the time you pull the door to behind you, a large tupperwear box clutched between your hands. Two dozen freshly iced lovebird cookies, perfectly iced in half a dozen shades of pink, blue and white sit safely within the slightly discoloured container.

_ It’s just new neighbours. They won’t care about your old tupperwear. It’ll be five minutes; ten tops. Stop freaking out. Just stop. _

You can feel your breaths coming in shorter, sharper pulls. Your throat tightens. Your relationship with your old neighbours hadn’t exactly been the best. They had seemed friendly enough at first. You’d even gone around for tea with old Mrs Miller a couple of times.

That was before they had seen your then-boyfriend being taken away in cuffs for the fourth time. It had been all sympathetic looks and hushed whispered the first time. By the second, then the third, well…

_ I can do this. I can do this. Just walk up the goddamned pathway you idiot. What is even wrong with me? _

Your steps slow down, coming to a complete stop as you reach the gate to your neighbour's yard. You take a deep, steadying breath.  _ Why do I always have to ruin things like this? Why can’t I just act normal for once in my-  _

“Hey, move out the way, lady!” 

You wince, taking a step back as the gate slams into your hip. Three small children, no older than ten, push past you. Each have an icecream bar clutched firmly in their grubby little fists. You watch as they push past you.

“What a weirdo. Think if we come back tomorrow, it’ll give us another one?”

“Watch where you’re...hey!” You call belatedly after them.  _ Those little shits.  _ You think as you stoop down, picking up their discarded wrappers.  _ How thoughtless of them.  _ You huff.  _ Freakin jerks.  _

Crumpling the wrappers in your hand, you catch sight of the branding. You had heard of nicecreams, but you haven’t had the chance to try them yet. They are still considered pretty specialist, with only a few monster stores stocking them. Demand far outstrips supply, from what you can tell.  _ Who the heck is giving these out to local kids?  _ You take another long, hard look at your neighbour's yard, the pieces finally beginning to click. _ Are they… are they like, giving these out like trick-or-treat candy or something? _

Pulling the gate to behind you, you pick up a further two discarded wrappers as you make your way across the unkept yard. Now you can see the pumpkins up close, you can’t help the smile curving at your lips as you take in the unusual carvings. 

_ Is that a plate of spaghetti on that one? _

You slow down to appreciate the surprisingly detailed carving.  _ Huh. That… actually makes me pretty hungry. I could do with a nice, big ol’ plate of spaghetti and meatballs right now.  _ Your stomach grumbles in agreement. “Oh hush, you.” You tell it with a firm poke. “There are misshapes and broken bits  - and a whole bowl of blue icing with my name on it - when we get back.” 

“YOU HAVE YOUR NAME ON YOUR BOWL? HOW VERY EFFICIENT! WHY DID I NEVER THINK OF THAT?”

“Whatthefu--dge!” You let out a shriek, as you bump face first into a… ribcage? You take a step back.

“HELLO THERE, HUMAN! I SEE YOU HAVE COME TO PARTAKE IN THE HOLIDAY SPIRIT! I AM AFRAID WE ARE ALL OUT OF NICECREAMS RIGHT NOW, AND I DO NOT HAVE ANY OF THIS… WHAT FUDGE, YOU SPEAK OF?”

Leaning back, you crane your head back… and back… and back.

_ That….is a talking skeleton. A talking, eight freaking foot tall, skeleton. With a bow and arrow. What is my life right now? _

A high-pitched giggle escapes before you can stop yourself. You can feel your cheeks burning in embarrassment. How had you not noticed the freaking huge monster opening the door?

“I-am, I’m sorry about that, um, Mr…” You trail off, hoping he will fill in the blank for you.  _ Why didn’t I take a peek at his mailbox on the way?   _

“OH, OF COURSE! HOW FOOLISH OF ME NOT TO INTRODUCE MYSELF. I FORGET THAT NOT ALL HUMANS HAVE HEARD OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS YET. I DO HOPE TO RECTIFY THAT SOON. NYEHEHE. AND WHAT IS YOUR NAME?” 

_ I… am talking to an eight-foot-tall skeleton who is...dressed as a cherub? Please tell me that’s a costume and not an actual diaper. _

“Oh! I-I’m [y/n]. Papyrus, was it? I-I’m your neighbour. I just thought I’d, ah, um, come and say.. .hello?” Biting your lip, you look down. Why did your nerves have to get the best of you now?  _ He’s going to think I’m some kind of monster-hating jerk.  _ You can feel yourself tearing up already. 

“IT IS A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU! I TRIED COMING OVER WITH SOME OF MY FAMOUS SPAGHETTI ONLY THIS MORNING, BUT NO-ONE ANSWERED. I AM GLAD YOU CAME OVER TO SAY HELLO. HELLO!” 

Another soft laugh escapes from between your lips. Is he always this animated?  _ What a strange guy. Sweet, but strange.  _

“Hello. I, ah, sorry about that. I leave pretty early for work, so there isn’t really anyone in to answer the door most of the time. I just, I saw the decorations, and I thought someone may be in, so… oh! and I - there was trash blowing in from your yard, I wanted to-” Balancing the tupperwear against your chest, you hold up a handful of wrappers.

A deep voice cuts you off.

“calling my bros decorations trash, eh? that isn’t very  **nicecream** of you, bud. not really in the holiday  **spirit** at all.” 

You let out another scream. A shorter skeleton, this one clad in bunny slippers and an oversized t-shirt with the word ‘costume’ emblazoned across his chest, appears behind you.  _ How did he sneak up like that? _

You feel your cheeks burning again. “No, no! That wasn’t what I meant! I mean, yes, I’m curious about the decorations. They are kind of unusual for-” 

“i’m going to stop you right there, friend. i think it’d be best if you just made like a tree, and  **leaf** .” Despite his grin, you couldn’t see a hint of friendliness or compassion behind his (glowing?!) blue eyesocket. You feel yourself tensing like a deer caught in headlights. 

“I-I think this has all been a big misunderstanding. I just wanted to-” You stutter, tripping over your own words. Confrontations always make you nervous. Your heart pounds in your chest.  _ I think I’m going to be sick. Do not throw up on the small skeleton. Do not throw up on him.  _ It was one of the many things that made your ex get so angry with you.  _ “If you could just learn how to react like a normal fucking person and not a freak, maybe I wouldn’t have to put you in your place all the goddamned time!” he used to scream at you. _

Flinching, you take a step back.

You can feel your back bumping into Papyrus’s haphazardly wrapped pelvis.

“i really don’t care what you want. here to gawp at the freakshow like your other buddies? i don’t think so.” 

You can feel… something, wrapping around your throat. You freeze, eyes going wide. You can’t shake the memories playing on loop in your head. 

_ “It isn’t about what you want, bitch.”  _

_ “What’s that? No? You think you can say no?” _

_ “Who the hell do you think you are?” _

“i said, who the hell do you think you are? coming here, harassing my baby bro.” You cling to your forgotten tupperware box tightly, unable to move. It feels like his fingers are tightening around your throat all over again.

_ What if he presses too hard this time? What if he loses control? What if this is the time he’s finally had enough of me and-and-and. _

You feel a bony, long-fingered hand resting on your shoulder. You can’t help but whimper, unable to even turn thanks to the thing gripping your neck so tightly. 

“SANS, REALLY! SHE WAS JUST HERE TO ADMIRE THE DECORATIONS AND TAKE PART IN THE WONDERFUL TRICK-OR-TREATING. I TOLD YOU ABOUT THIS! IT IS A HUMAN CUSTOM THAT TAKES MANY FORMS OVER THE YEAR. SOMETIMES THERE IS SINGING AND HOT COCOA AND SNOW. SOMETIMES THERE IS CANDY AND PUMPKINS. I THOUGHT… IS VALENTINES NOT ONE OF THESE OCCASIONS, HUMAN?”

You can feel Sans eyes burning into your skin. Your hands twitch, desperate to move, too afraid at what might happen if you struggle against the unseen force. Even as Papyrus’s forlorn tone tugs at your heartstrings, you can’t bring yourself to make a move, to make a sound. You thought the days of being held in place like this were long gone.

“...get back in the house, paps. i’ll be in with you in a minute.” 

Nobody moves.

“REALLY, BROTHER, I DON’T THINK-” Papyrus moves closer, oblivious to the faint blue glow surrounding your neck. His hand shifts, brushing closer to your neck. You can feel the floodgates opening.

Tears start streaming down your cheeks. You can feel the tell-tale warmth spreading across the front of your jeans. “Oh god.” You let out a whimper. The blue glow snaps away, releasing you in an instant. You can feel the looks of disbelief and confusion burning you. 

“HUMAN? I… DID I DO SOMETHING WRONG?” You can’t bring yourself to look at him.  _ Oh gods, I made the monster-embodiment of a perfect cinnamon roll sound like he’s going to cry. There is a special place in hell reserved for people like me. _

“go inside, pappy. i’ll deal with this.” 

His tone sounds so weary. Just as cold, but with less of an angry undertone and more one of… resignation? You hear the soft click of Papyrus closing the door behind you, leaving just you, Sans, and the slowly trickling puddle of urine on their porch. 

“I-I-I” You stammer again, unable to get any more out through your tears.

“get out of here, kid. and don’t come back again. if i see you around my brother, if i hear you so much as look at him, you’re going to **h a v e a b a d t i m e** .” 

Gasping, you see the blue glow return. This time, you feel it pushing your whole body away from the house. By the time you reach the gate, the first clawing fingers of a panic attack return. Desperately trying to draw in deep breaths, you push your way outside of the gate, past another group of would-be trick-or-treaters. You thrust the tupperwear into the hands of the nearest one, closing the gate firmly behind you before they can slip past and into the yard. 

You can see their mouths moving, but you can’t hear anything beyond the rushing noise in your ears. You just wet yourself in front of them like a-a, like a-

“Disgusting, filthy, goddamned freak. What is wrong with you?” You can practically hear him screaming it; the heat of his breath against your skin, the memory of his spittle and your blood flecked across your skin.  _ Why can’t I just be normal? _

You don’t remember the walk back into your house. As your breathing finally slows to a more normal pace, you can feel the cold sting of the shower raining down on you. Forcing yourself upright, the stiffness in your limbs makes you ache and hiss. You wonder how long you have lost this time, crouched in the bathtub, fully clothed. You can feel yourself shivering from the cold. You always come to with the cold on, never the hot.

_ “Filthy whores don’t get to use the hot water. You should be thankful I didn’t hose you off in the yard. You piss yourself one more god-damned time, and I’m hosing you down like the animal you are. You hear me?” _

Stripping off your clothes, you make your way into your room. You don’t bother toweling dry; what’s the point? Who would care if you got sick? You paused beside the closet. The urge to curl up in your safe space is near overwhelming. Your hand rests on the knob.  _ One night wouldn’t hurt. _

“No.” You tell yourself firmly. “That’s enough fuck-ups for one night.” You wince, throat feeling painfully raw. Taking slow steps, you reluctantly force yourself towards the small twin bed. The comforter feels soft beneath your fingers.

“I just need to pull myself together, get some sleep, and…” You force yourself to close your eyes as you turn over, refusing to acknowledge the tears pooling beneath your cheek. “First thing tomorrow, I can start looking for somewhere new to live. Somewhere where I won’t be a bother to anyone.”


	2. Chapter two: All you knead is loaf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors notes: I’m not very punny, but...I’m going to keep trying, goshdarnit. Also: these chapters are being written in bulk during a sugar-fueled haze. I… am really hoping people didn’t hate the first chapter, cause… here’s chapter two (of what was meant to be a short and sweet 1k one-shot that somehow ended up with a plot. Gah.)
> 
> As always, any constructive criticism or feedback is greatly appreciated. I’ve really appreciated the feedback so far! Just a quick note: my characterisation of both Paps and Sans still needs work. Papyrus is definitely a bit too dumbed-down, and Sans is nowhere near lazy enough (edging on the too defensive side of things for a post pacifist route ending), but… they will probably remain consistent with their current characterisation during the five chapters for this fic. If I do a follow-up, I will try to improve them where I can. 
> 
> Anyway… I hope you enjoy. I’m having a bad day, so… here’s a second chapter for you guys a bit sooner than planned.

The sun is shining, birds are singing, and you can hear the faint laughter of children playing in the distance.

“Fuck my life.” You whimper, rolling yourself further into your blanket burrito. For several long, blissful minutes, you lay in your bed, the past disastrous evening still hazy. You had some weird dream about a skeleton in a diaper, right? That turned into a nightmare pretty quick when that other guy … “Why me?”

You can feel the mortification burning in the pit of your stomach. How could you have messed things up so badly, in such a short space of time? “They must think I’m a complete monsterphobe. Why else would someone do…” Your mind flashes back to the horrible warmth, and the cold, electric press against your throat “...that, when someone just puts a hand on their shoulder?”

Pulling on an old tee and sweats, you yank your hair into a messy bun. There is no way you are leaving the house today; you can’t take the chance of running into either of the brothers, not so soon. Shuffling into the kitchen, you stare blankly at the contents of your fridge. Just the thought of food make you feel sick.

“Poor Papyrus. I must have made him feel terrible. I wish I could make it up to him.” Your go-to apology has always been baking. Somehow, you don’t think giving homemade treats another shot will go any better the second time around. “Maybe it really would be best for everyone if I just…”

_Just what? Leave? Where would I go? All of my money’s tied up in this place. I’m already behind on utilities, and it’s not exactly a seller’s market at the moment. I can’t even afford to repair my car right now. How the heck am I supposed to afford moving?_

You make your way to the couch, flipping the TV on absentmindedly as you go. The latest series of Love Island flares to life. Ever since Mettaton had begun hosting, the show has become a heck of a lot more interesting. It seems as though half of the contestants would rather try to woo the beautiful robot than follow the script set out by the producers.

_“Worthless. That’s what you are. A drain on everyone you meet. You should just do everyone a favour and kill yourself.”_

Maybe… maybe your ex was right? He had always been ‘the normal one’ in your relationship. Doesn’t it make more sense that you are the one causing all the problems? What if he has been right all along?

“I should have listened to him.” You feel your nails biting into the soft flesh of your wrist, trying to drag you back to the moment and away from your darker thoughts. “It’s not too late. I could still…”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

“HELLO? HUMAN? ARE YOU IN THERE?”

You hiss, dragging your nails away from your wrist. Small rivets of blood ooze sluggishly from the torn skin. _That can’t be…_

“IT IS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS! I MUST SPEAK WITH YOU. IF... IF YOU ARE IN THERE? HELLO?”

_Oh god, he sounds so chipper and sad at the same time. How is he doing that? I can’t ignore that; it’s like kicking a metaphorical puppy._

You stand, making a move towards the door. As you approach, you can see his shadow looming over the frosted glass pane above your front door. _What if Sans finds out? He seemed pretty serious…_

Would Papyrus approaching you still count? You aren’t sure if you want to risk it.

“[Y/N]? DID I… DO SOMETHING WRONG? I THOUGHT WE COULD HAVE FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI TO SOLIDIFY OUR SPECIAL NEW RELATIONSHIP. BUT, I SEE I HAVE OVERSTEPPED MYSELF. I WILL LEAVE. I… will not bother you again. I am sorry.”

Before you realise, you find yourself blinking in the mid-morning sunlight. You couldn’t stand to hear the defeated tone coming from Papyrus. _He seems far too innocent to be sounding like that. I don’t want to hurt him, not if… not if I can help it._

“P-please don’t apologise!” You had forgotten just how tall Papyrus really is. You lean back, straining to look up at his face. He looks so forlorn, and… hopeful? “I’m the one who should be apologising. I… am so, so sorry. About everything.” You cringe, looking down. Apologies have always brought back unpleasant memories for you.

“EVERYTHING?” Papyrus repeats, browbone furrowing.

 _How does he do that?_ You couldn’t help but think. “Yes.”

“OH.” He looks down. “EVEN… THE FRIENDSHIP COOKIES?” You follow his gaze. There in his hands sits your now empty tupperwear. “I FOUND THIS BY THE GATE, WITH A BROKEN BIRD BENEATH IT. I THOUGHT YOU BROUGHT THIS WITH YOU YESTERDAY?” He holds it out to you uncertainly.

“Ah-no, I mean, yes. Yes, I brought it with me. It was…” You force yourself to stop. Counting to five, you take a deep, steadying breath. _Just calm down. Don’t even think about what could happen. Just stay calm, and explain._ “I saw the decorations on my way home last night, and I thought it would be nice and-and neighbourly, to bring you a house warming present.”

“PRESENT?” Is that… are the red glowing lights in his eyesockets turning into stars?

“I tend to make too many cookies when I’m baking anyway, and with Valentine's day coming up and all, I thought it would be, ah, sweet, to bring along a few homemade treats?” You trail off.

“YOU MEAN, YOU MADE THESE? JUST FOR US?” Papyrus asks, looking at you with literal stars in his eyes. You squirm in place.

“Ah...yes?” You confirm hesitantly, peeking up at him through loose strands of your hair.

“AND THAT… WASN’T A BAKING PUN YOU WERE MAKING THEN, WAS IT?” His tone takes on a stern edge. You shake your head. “WOWIE! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU MADE THEM, JUST FOR US! THANK YOU, SMALL HUMAN! I WILL TREASURE THIS AND SHARE IT WITH SANS LATER.” Grinning, Papyrus cradles the sad, broken cookie in his hand.

“D-didn’t you say you’d found that one on the floor, P-Payrus?” You ask.

“I DID INDEED. I BELIEVE THE LAST BATCH OF TRICK-OR-TREATERS MUST HAVE EATEN THEM WHEN I RAN OUT OF NICECREAMS. I WILL HAVE TO RESTOCK AGAIN TO ALLOW THE FESTIVITIES TO CONTINUE.”

“You can’t eat that if it’s been on the ground. It could make you sick!” You scold the tall skeleton without thinking. You feel yourself stiffening. What if Papyrus doesn’t like being told what to do? What if… what if Sans hears you talking to his brother like that? Would that make him mad?

“BUT YOU MADE IT FOR ME! IT’S MINE!” He cradles the broken cookie, holding it away as though you might snatch it from him.

You aren’t quite sure what to do. Is Papyrus really worried you will take it back from him? That would just be mean. “I did make it for you. I didn’t mean I was going to take it away, or… or that I regret making it for you. I just meant, it might not still be edible. I…”  _What the heck am I doing? Don’t say it, don’t say it. Do not goddamned say it._

“Would you like to come in? I could make you a fresh batch as an apology? Or… or we could make a couple of batches together? If you’d like?” You offer, voice barely above a whisper.

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS WOULD LOVE TO MAKE FRIENDSHIP BISCUITS WITH YOU, HUMAN! I AM SURE THEY CANNOT COMPARE TO MY FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI, BUT IT WOULD BE A MOST WONDROUS EXPERIENCE TO ADD A NEW RECIPE TO MY CULINARY REPERTOIRE. THAT WOULD BE MOST KIND OF YOU. MOST KIND!”

“Eep!” You can feel your feet leaving the ground, as Papyrus wraps his arms around you in a hug. Your arms hang limply by your sides. It has been so long since someone touched you without it hurting in some way, you… aren’t quite sure what to do.

“LEAD THE WAY! THE MORNING IS ALMOST OVER, AND CULINARY MASTERPIECES WAIT FOR NO SKELETON!”

_What have I gotten myself into?_

* * *

The two of you stand side by side. Your head barely comes up to his sternum, making quite the comical picture for any casual observers. _Poor thing, having to stoop to just get inside._ You have already had a few incidents where the tall skeleton monster’s over-enthusiasm has resulted in bumped heads and broken light fixtures,  bringing a shower of paint chips and plaster down with him.

“Are you sure I can’t get you a bandaid for that, P-Papyrus? I think I’ve only got some Hello Kitty ones at the moment, but I wouldn’t want you to get an infection…” _Can monsters even get infections from small grazes like humans do?_

“THAT WOULD BE MOST WONDERFUL, IF IT WOULD NOT BE TOO MUCH TROUBLE?”

You smile, excusing yourself to go and grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. _Just play it cool. Sans might not even notice when his brother comes home with a GIANT FLUORESCENT PINK KITTY PLASTER ON HIS FOREHEAD. He’s going to kill me._

You motion for Papyrus to sit on the barstool by your kitchen counter as you wipe his skull with a disinfectant wipe. “Hello Kitty or Pom Pom Purin?” You hold up his two options, before placing the bright yellow puppy plaster on his grazed head.

“I...AM MOST SORRY, HUMAN, FOR WHAT HAPPENED.” You continue putting away the first aid kit, waving him off with a smile.

“Don’t be silly! I should be the one apologising; I’m just sorry you got hurt. Hopefully, it isn’t too painful. I think I’ve still got a couple of painkillers if it’s feeling sore? Though I’m not sure of the dosage for someone of your… er, height.” _Or how safe it is for monsters to take human medicine._

“THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEAN. I WANT TO APOLOGISE ON BEHALF OF MY BROTHER. FOR ALL THAT HE IS A NO-GOOD LAZYBONES, HE… HAS A GOOD HEART. WE HAVE NOT ALWAYS HAD THE BEST EXPERIENCE WITH HUMANS. HE TENDS TO ASSUME THE WORST.” Papyrus looks down, pushing his red glove covered fingers together. “THE NEIGHBOURHOOD WE LIVED IN PRIOR TO THIS WAS NOT AS... NICE AS THIS ONE APPEARS TO BE. HE IS PROTECTIVE OF ME - NOT THAT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS NEED HIS PROTECTION, OF COURSE, BUT-”

You lay a hand on his ulna. Offering him a gentle smile, you interrupt. “You don’t need to explain, Papyrus. He’s your brother. He obviously cares greatly about you. I don’t blame him for assuming the worst when it comes to us humans; as a species, we haven’t exactly got a great track record when it comes to, eh, being humane.” You reach up to brush your hair back nervously. You see his eyes lingering on your neck.

_Oh god. I didn’t check to see if there are any marks. What if he can see them? What if…_

“NYEHEHE. YOU AND MY BROTHER ARE SO ALIKE! NEITHER OF YOU GIVES YOURSELVES ENOUGH CREDIT. I THINK HUMANS ARE PRETTY GREAT!” Reaching out a hand, he seemed to hesitate a moment, before patting you on the head.

You feel the start of a genuine smile curving on your lips. “I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, Paps, but from the ones I’ve met, I think monsters are pretty darn great. Present company included.” Your smile widens as a faint, orange blush glows across Papyrus’s cheeks.

 _He’s just so damned cute! How could anyone ever be mean to him?_ “Ah... where were we?” You draw his attention back to the waiting dough. “Do you want to pick out which shapes you’d like to make? I’ve got quite a few different ones to choose from.”

“OH, WOWIE! THAT’S A LOT OF SMALL METAL SHAPES!”

You laugh, as Papyrus pokes through your draw of cookie cutters. “It’s easier to have cutters for most shapes; making them freehand can take a lot more time and patience than I’ve usually got to spare, unless it’s a special occasion.”

You split the dough into two equal balls as Papyrus carefully sets about the task of finding The Perfect Cookie Shape. Your eye catches on one cutter in particular, making your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“THIS ONE WILL BE PERFECT!” You breathe a sigh of relief.

_Oh thank you dear sweet fluffy kittens; I thought for a moment that might have been racist. Speciest? Skeleton-ist?_

Of course Papyrus had found your Halloween collection of cookie cutters - complete with matching skull and bone shapes. “Tibia honest, I’d forgotten I had left that one in there.” You smile up at him.

“OH, THIS IS SO MUCH FUN! NEXT TIME YOU WILL HAVE TO COME OVER TO OUR PLACE, AND I WILL MAKE YOU MY SPECIAL FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI. I CANNOT SHARE MY EXACT RECIPE - THAT IS RESERVED FOR BEST FRIENDS, YOU UNDERSTAND - BUT PERHAPS ONE DAY, WE SHALL BE CLOSE ENOUGH THAT I WILL CONSIDER IT.”

 _Too. Many. Warm. Fuzzy. FEELS!_ “I-I would love that, Papyrus. Thank you.” You turn your back on the tall monster, an idea for your own dough quickly forming in your mind.

* * *

“Just up the stairs, second door on the left - you can’t miss it.” You usher Papyrus up towards your bathroom. Somehow he had managed to singe his trademark scarf, get dough stuck between his radius and ulna, and managed to make not one but two bags of flour explode everywhere. It now coated every surface like a thick, white layer of dust.

You were quick to wave away his offer to help clean up. “I’ll deal with this mess. You just go and freshen up. I need to keep an eye on the cookies anyway.”

Humming to yourself, you dump the cutters and mixing bowls in the sink. “Now, where did I leave that knife?” You search amongst the mounds of flour. “It’s going to take forever to clean up this mess.” You sneeze, a puff of white flour setting you off.

“w h a t d i d i s a y.”

Just as you reach for the missing knife, a flash of blue catches the corner of your eye. Flour falls around you in a dusty haze, as the blue glow pins you by the neck once more. You can feel it at your wrist this time as well, forcing you to drop the knife. It clatters to the floor in a shower of powder.

“n o... n o n o n o **no** .” His eyes are glowing again, burning brightly. He’s staring at the flour as though it is the most horrific sight he has ever seen. “ **w h a t h a v e y o u d o n e**.”

He sounds so angry. So...broken? “ **w h e n i a m f i n i s h e d w i t h y o u p a l, y o u ‘ r e g o n n a w i s h y o u ‘ d n e v e r -** ”

_Why is he so close? What have I done? Calm. Calm. Just breathe. It isn’t him. Sans isn’t him. There has to be some kind of misunderstanding. It’s only flour. He can’t be this angry about a little wasted food, can he?_

“ **... g o n n a h a v e s u c h a** **b a d t i m e**.”

_Oh god oh god oh god the knife is glowing. Why is he making the knife glow?_

“Nononononono” You can’t even struggle against the blue glow; it’s holding you completely still now. It feels as though it is pressing against your chest. _Is this another panic attack, or is he - is he literally stopping my..._

“SANS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? PUT MY NEW FRIEND DOWN IMMEDIATELY! YOU ARE ALWAYS RUINING MY PLAYDATES!”

“...paps?”

The change is immediate. You sag, falling to the floor with a gasping, wet breath. Not a panic attack after all. You aren’t sure if this makes things better or worse, truth be told. Three sets of eyes shoot to the left, as the knife clatters to the floor.

“SANS? WHY... WHY WERE YOU MAKING [Y/N]’S PASTRY KNIFE LEVITATE? WERE YOU…” _Oh_ _Papyrus…_ you look between the two brothers. He shouldn’t be looking at Sans with such doubt; you know that much. The shorter skeleton may have done you no favours, but from what little you have seen - and the long, rambling tales Papyrus shared over the course of the morning - Sans really would do anything for his big-little brother.

“He was just helping me clean up. I-isn’t that right, S-Sans?” you croak from the floor,. Two sets of disbelieving eyes turn on you, as you nervously hold up one of the empty flour packets.

"...flour..."

“IS THIS TRUE, BROTHER?”

“...eh. you know me, paps. i always like to make sure i haven’t over-SWEPT my welcome.”

“I WASN’T EVEN AWARE YOU KNEW WHAT A BROOM WAS! IF THAT IS THE CASE, YOU WILL HAVE TO START ON THAT TRASH TORNADO IN YOUR BEDROOM. DON’T THINK I DIDN’T NOTICE YOU BRINGING IT WITH YOU. YOU’RE SUCH A LAZY-BONES!”

Slowly, you edge yourself away from the two brothers. Crawling backwards on your hands, shuffling along on your butt, you slip closer to the oven - and further away from both the knife and the arguing skeletons. Sans eyes flick towards you, drawing Papyrus’s attention back to you too.

“I, er… just need to check on the cookies?” You excuse yourself as you kneel up to peer through the glass oven door.

“ARE YOU SURE THE OVEN IS ON HIGH ENOUGH? IF FRIENDSHIP COOKIES ARE ANYTHING LIKE FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI, SHOULDN’T THE FLAMES OF BURNING PASSION BE VISIBLE?”

_Just what kind of spaghetti does he usually cook?_

“AND AS A HOLIDAY ALL ABOUT LOVE, SHOULDN’T THERE BE MORE PASSIONATE FLAMES, NOT LESS, [Y/N]?”

“Ah…” You glance back at the two of them, desperate to escape from the enclosed space. If Sans is this angry about a little spilled flour, how mad will he be when he spots the plaster on Papyrus’s head? “... not… really?”

“OH…” Papyrus looks down dejectedly.

“Valentine's day is more about sharing chocolate and flowers and small gifts with someone you care about to show them just how much you like them. It doesn’t have to involve fire or, er…” you glance at Sans nervously. “...or trick-or-treating. That’s usually just at Halloween.”

“BUT I THOUGHT - THE HOT COCOA AND SINGING...”

“Do you mean carolling? That’s usually at Christmas.”

“YOU MEAN GYFTMAS? SO MANY STRANGE TRADITIONS. THEY CANNOT BE INTERCHANGED BETWEEN HOLIDAYS?”

“Um… they aren’t usually, but… I don’t see why not?”

“EXCELLENT!” Papyrus beamed at you. “THEN I SHALL CONTINUE AS PLANNED WITH MY FRIENDSHIP COOKIE GIVING TONIGHT, UNTIL _SOMEONE_ REMEMBERS TO RESTOCK OUR NICECREAM SUPPLY. SANS.”

Sans shoves his hands in his pockets, leaning back on his heels. “i’m getting there bro, i’m getting there. all you had to do was ask n **icely** .”  

“IS THAT ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR AWFUL PUNS? MUST YOU DO THAT AROUND MY FRIEND, SANS? YOU WILL SCARE HER AWAY” Papyrus shakes his fist.

“she knows i’m just being **humerous** paps. no **bones** about it.” Sans grin took on a brittle edge, as he watches you open the oven. “... what are those.” He asks flatly, eyeing the rows of identical treats.

You feel your hands trembling within your oven mitts as you carefully lift the trays out. Biting your lip, you look down at the perfectly formed bone cookies Papyrus had made. “I-”

“OH MY GOSH, HUMAN! ARE-ARE THOSE-” Papyrus crowded behind you, his voice somehow getting even louder as he peered over your shoulder.

“i’m sure your new _friend_ didn’t mean-”

_Yup, that’s definitely not his happy face. How can someone so smiley be so terrifying?_

“MY MASTERPIECES ARE COMPLETE!”

 _Those are definitely stars in his eyes. How does that even work?_ You carefully nudged Papyrus’s batch of bone cookies onto the cooling rack, before turning back to pull your own out from the oven.

Sans looks between the two of you blankly. “...yours?”

You both nod.

“...as in, paps made them?” Nod. “...without er… any… extra ingredients? Or… fire?”

“REALLY, SANS! YOU MAKE ME SOUND LIKE SOME KIND OF-OF AMETURE IN THE CULINARY ARTS! HOW COULD YOU? NO COOKIES FOR YOU!”

Sliding the final tray from the oven, you carefully lift your little creations onto the spare cooling rack. Keeping an eye on the two bickering brothers, you start packing up Papyrus's bones in a large, spare tupperwear box, pulling together everything he will need to ice them at home. Stooping down to grab a second container, you slip the others in, taking care not to break them.

“Ah, I-” you freeze, as two sets of eyes fall on you. “Here’s everything you should need to ice them at home once they’ve fully cooled down later, P-Papyrus. It was really fun baking with you. Thanks again for coming over, and, ah, sorry again about…”

Papyrus takes the outstretched container. “NO NEED TO APOLOGISE, HUMAN! THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THE BAKING LESSON. OH! WHAT HAVE YOU GOT THERE? DID YOUR COOKIES NOT TURN OUT AS YOU HAD HOPED?”

Your hands clench uncertainty around the smaller box. _I can do this._ “I, ah, I thought I’d try remaking the housewarming cookies for you again? I kind of ran out of the right colouring to do another batch of lovebirds, so I thought…” You hold them out for him to take.

“...is that…”

“SPAGHETTI?”

You glance nervously between the two again. “You said it was your favourite? They aren’t really cool enough to ice yet, but I-”

“I DID NOT SEE A SPAGHETTI CUTTER! I DID NOT REALISE THAT WAS AN OPTION!” Papyrus interrupts.

“Er, no. They don’t really, um, make those? At least I don’t think they do. I made them freehand.”

“WOWIE.”

You blush, avoiding looking at either brother. “I could show you how to make them another time if you’d like? Or-or not. It was lovely having you over. S-sorry again for… just sorry. Thank you for coming by. Ah… Bye!” You dash past Papyrus, pulling the back door closed behind you. Sliding down the chipped paintwork, you can feel your cheeks burning. You hear the sound of footsteps retreating, along with the soft click of the front door opening and closing.

Someone knocks on the door behind you. “kid? you do realise this is your house, right?” Sans calls out to you.

You groan. _Why do I keep looking like such an idiot in front of him?_

“can i come out? i think we need to talk.”

 _Please no._ “Ah, I’d really rather-eek!” _How the fuck did he get out here and in front of me without opening the door or making a goddamned noise?_

“look pal, I think we might have got off on the wrong foot. i may have thought you had a **bone** to pick with paps, and i-”

“Please stop.” Your words, barely above a whisper, cut him off. “I really… I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry my coming over to welcome you to the neighbourhood was a bad idea. I’m sorry picking up that trash was wrong. I’m sorry I let your brother bump his head, and get flour all over his clothes, and come into a-a stranger's house. I’m sorry. Just please…” You stand slowly, reaching behind you to tug the door open without lifting your eyes from his bunny slippers. “Please don’t do that to me again. I’ve got your message, loud and clear. I won’t be bothering you again. I-I’ll start looking for a new place by the end of the month. I’m sorry.”

You close the door behind you with a quiet snick.

“hey, no. buddy - i think there’s been a misunderstanding. i didn’t mean…” You tense as you see his shadow creeping closer to the back door through the frosted glass, the floorboards creaking as he steps closer. “paps seems to really like you. he wanted me to give you his number before i left. just… don’t take it out on him, cause his brother can be a real **bonehead**.”

You take a step back, as a slip of paper is pushed under your door.

“i’m sorry kid. I… guess you probably don’t want to hear that from me right now. i’ll try an’ explain another time, when thing’s had a chance to **marrow**. i’ll be seein’ ya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SCENE WHERE YOU LET SANS HAVE IT AND SHOW HIM WHAT-FOR! Instead, it somehow turned into… well, this. I’m sorry? I also now have a weird headcanon where Sans is terrified of baking, as every time he sees flour he thinks it looks like someone has been dusted. I don’t even know anymore, ok? I’m just gonna go sit quietly in the corner now...


	3. Chapter three: This relationSHIP has SAILED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Potential trigger warning: mentions of self-harm and past abuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors notes: I...still sucks at puns. This is still part of a two-evening, sugar-fuelled writing binge. I now realise I have been switching between present and past tense, and I will need to FIX THIS SHIT before I can share it with anyone. If you spot any slip-ups, feel free to pelt me with leftover spaghetti. 
> 
> I... have had a bad day, so...here's chapter three already?
> 
> As always; constructive criticism and feedback is very much welcomed and appreciated. I hope you are enjoying so far. Er...here it goes~

“What did I do to deserve this?”

The last 48 hours have seemed like the longest in your life. _This is what I get for trying to be nice to people. I should have just minded my own business. I could have spent the whole weekend drinking cocktails and watching MTT reruns._

You take a long gulp of your white Russian, wincing at the taste. You’ve added too much vodka again. Reaching across your coffee table, you pick up the half-empty bottle of Disaronno to top up your glass.  _But nooooo, I had to go and try and-_ “Shit.”

The tinkle of breaking glass make you sit up. You didn’t think you had knocked your glass with enough force to break it. “Maybe it’s time to switch back to virgin coladas.” You sigh, as you stand. Stepping over the spreading puddle of creamy alcohol, you pause, frowning. “Huh.” Your glass is fully intact. “I thought…” Is that crunching glass you could hear?

Grabbing the remote, you put the TV on mute. You reach for your phone, fingers hovering over the lock screen. _It’s probably just racoons or something._ You reassure yourself. Swiping your screen, you go to open the torch app when you spot your messages flashing.

“Eight missed calls? 27 messages? What the?” Your pause, finger hovering over the icon. _Who would be that desperate to get in contact with me? It’s not like the office is even open at weekends._

Your stomach churns uneasily. You dodn’t exactly have the most active social circle. Sure, at one time you had hung out with a few people, but you probably would have called them more friends-of-a-friend at best. _Well, until a certain someone decided they didn’t like how I’d dress around them, or ‘flirt’ with them, or…_ You take a calming breath. “I’m just being stupid. It’s not…”

Crash! Crunch.

“Fuck!” You gasp, as the sound of your back door slamming open echoes through your house. You stumble back in the dim light, fear now clawing at your throat.

“You think you can just keep ignoring me, bitch? I try to do something nice for your good for nothing ass, and this is how you repay me?”

You can feel yourself begin to tremble. Eyes darting between the open hallway door and cupboard, you hesitate. The living room would be one of the first rooms he would check, but your backdoor was just inside the kitchen. Depending on where he may be standing, he could have a clear view of the hallway.

“I buy you flowers, and this is how you treat me? I see I’m going to have to teach you proper manners all over again.”

You bolt for the stairs. You nearly trip over your slippers in your scramble to get out of sight as quickly as possible. You can see the entire frosted glass half of your backdoor is low littering the kitchen floor, jagged shards glistening beneath the harsh fluorescent lighting. A smear of blood is on the inside handle; he must already be inside.

You dart past the master bedroom door - _too risky, he’ll check there next_ \- past the bathroom - _nowhere to hide -_ and into the unused guestroom. Boxes still litter the barren room, the bare metal frame dominating the majority of the small space. You had such high hopes for the second room when you had first moved in. You make a beeline for the walk-in cupboard door. Crawling on hands and knees, you edge yourself into the back corner, pulling musty clothing on top of you as you go.

Eyes screwed shut, you desperately try to calm your breathing. _Quiet. Don’t let him hear. Need to be silent._ You don’t notice as your phone falls from your grip, lost beneath the scramble to cover every exposed inch. The cold tendrils of dread claw at your stomach. _It’s just like old times_ you think, biting back a hysterical giggle. You can feel the coppery tang of blood filling your mouth. You bite down harder, using the pain to ground yourself. _Why can’t he just leave me alone?_

“You think you can hide from me?”

You gasp. Your hands fly to your mouth, pressing in the sound. You can hear the destruction he is leaving in his path. Is that your TV being smashed, or the second-hand glass coffee table you had picked up from goodwill only a couple of months ago?  “I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.” The tell-tale sound of photo frames smashing, one after the other, drifted up to you.

You press yourself further back into the corner. You had only just begun putting photos back up, starting in your downstairs hallway to give yourself a little boost each time you came in or out. Just a little reminder of what you used to have, of the people who once cared for you. Before him.

_Please don’t come up here. Please. Not again. I can’t - I can’t do this again._

You can hear the tell-tale thud-thud-thud on the steps. Tears streaming down your face, you force your hands down. He used to hate it when you tried to block him, no matter if it was an open hand or a fist. You feel around on the floor beside you, hand passing over your phone, a discarded pen, a penny. Nothing of any use. You reach further. _Something, anything. Please. I can’t do this again._

You reach further. The footsteps stop. Your hands fall on something hard, rectangular. _It’ll do._ The footsteps continue, making their way into the master bedroom. Slamming draws, tearing fabric. You can hear his harsh panting as he tears his way through your space once more.

“I’m going to find you, and when I do, you are going to have _such_ a bad time. I’ll go easy on you if you just come out now, [y/n]. If you make me find you, I’m going to make our last little visit seem like a walk in the FUCKING PARK.”

Another smash. What is there left for him to destroy? The mirror over your tiny vanity table? Another window? _He’s going to come in and he’s going to find me and he’s going to kill me this time._ Why do you feel so calm? _Why keep fighting it?_

“Who the FUCK are you? Is this some kind of joke?” It wouldn’t be the first time he played mind games with you. You push down the spark of hope pressing at your chest. If you strain, a second low murmur can be heard. He’s done this before; putting something on his phone or the TV, making it sound like someone had called the cops or had come over to see what the commotion was. It was never real.  

You close your hands more firmly around your prize, forcing your eyes open. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to do it right. You want to look him in the eyes one last time. The sound of footsteps drew closer. You can hear the crunch of glass, as he comes to a stop outside of your door. You hold your breath. The footsteps continued on towards the bathroom; the click of the light switch flicking on, then off. You shake your head; did you miss the sounds of smashing? Were you zoning out again?

_Focus. Just a few more minutes, and this can all be done. Just a little longer._

The footsteps return. Lightswitch clicking, the bright, fluorescent glow of the exposed overhead bulb peeks through the bottom of the door. _This is it._ The door swings open. Without giving him a chance to reach in, to find you, to touch you again, you swing into action. Pulling the large wood and glass frame from beneath your hiding spot, you smash it against the wall. A shower of jagged pieces of glass, large and small, rain down on you, your now ruined diploma falling amongst the remnants. You reach for the largest of the shards with sure fingers.

_You can’t have me again. Not this time. I can’t do this again._

Pulling it out, you hold it against your wrist. Pointing the shard up, not sideways, you push it in deep, dragging it up in one jagged motion. Forcing your eyes away from the river of blood now pouring from your torn artery, you look up to meet his eyes one last time.

_You made me do this. I spent years cleaning up your messes, covering for you, apologising after every pain-filled argument. This time, it’s your turn to explain away the marks and the mess. This time, I won’t be here to fix things for you._

Letting the shard fall from your fingers, you can feel the adrenalin wearing off. You won’t have the stomach, or the energy, to make a second cut. You look up, a mixture of triumph and acceptance in your eyes, and you meet his shocked - eye sockets?

“P-Papyrus? What’re you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors notes: I… hate cliffhangers (especially weak-ass ones). I’m sorry? Just to reassure you (as my track record with finishing things isn’t great) - yes, this is finished; I’m just editing and uploading at the moment. Expect daily updates until it is all complete (er...except for today...where you got two updates).


	4. Chapter four: It’s going tibia ok

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s notes: this was supposed to be a fluffy one-shot with candy and skele-love. What even is this anymore. There isn’t even any skele-love yet!

It was the throbbing that pulls you back into consciousness. You can feel your head and arm throbbing in tandem.  _ How much did I drink last night? Don’t tell me I tried drunk-baking again.  _ The last time you tried that, you ended up with second degree burns on your thigh and the sticky stench of burnt honey had clung to your hair for days.  __

“Oh shit.” You can see the bright rays of mid-morning sunshine peeking through the window.  _ What time is it? I’m going to be so late for work.  _ Sitting up, the comforter pools around your waist.  _ I don’t remember getting these sheets… or a racecar bed?  _

You blink. Reaching out with a cautious hand, you poke the red wooden frame.  _ Nope. It’s still here.  _ “What the fuck did drunk-me do, go on a shopping spree?” You wince as pain begins to win over your sleepy haze.  _ What the? _

“NOT EXACTLY!” 

“Fuck!” You squeak, scrambling back towards the headboard.

“I AM SORRY FOR STARTLING YOU. IT IS USUALLY MY BROTHER WHO DOES THE SNEAKING UP ON OTHERS, NYEHEHE.” Papyrus rubs the back of his head.  _ Why is he looking at me like that? _

“I, ah...how did I…” You trail off, looking up at the tall skeleton.  _ Did I get drunk and go over to apologise again? This is why I can’t have nice things. _

“AH. YOU DO NOT… REMEMBER, LAST NIGHT?” 

_ Why does he look so nervous? Oh geese, I didn’t do anything inappropriate, did I?  _ Laughing nervously, you reach up to brush your hair back. “I’m afraid I…” Your eyes fall to the bedside table. When did your phone get a crack in the screen? Wait…

The missed calls. The back door. The broken glass.  “Oh.” You reach for your phone with a trembling hand.    __

Papyrus tries to stop you. “I DON ’T KNOW IF THAT IS SUCH A GREAT IDEA, Y/N. PERHAPS YOU SHOULD ALLOW ME TO...OH DEAR.” 

Scrolling past the missed calls, you pull up your messages. 

Sweet Cinnamonroll:   
20:19 IS EVERYTHING OK, HUMAN? I THOUGHT I HEARD ONE OF MY TRAPS BEING SET OFF, BUT IT SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN A FALSE ALARM. PERHAPS IT WAS ONE OF YOUR TRAPS? IT SOUNDED AS THOUGH IT WAS COMING FROM YOUR SIDE OF THE FENCE.

20:25 SANS HAS INFORMED ME THAT HUMANS DO NOT GENERALLY SET TRAPS. AT ALL. (WOWIE! WHAT DO YOU DO FOR FUN?)

20:28 SANS HAS ALSO INFORMED ME THAT THAT WAS RUDE. BUT I THINK I HEARD A SCREAM FROM YOUR YARD, OR WELL, THE GENERAL DIRECTION OF YOUR YARD. ARE YOU WATCHING A HORROR MOVIE? I’M NOT ALLOWED TO WATCH THOSE ANYMORE.

20:29 THAT WAS MOST DEFINITELY A REAL SCREAM.  
20:29 PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU ARE OK, HUMAN?

Unknown number:  
20:28 hi pal. i got your number from paps. is everything ok over there? he’s pretty worried, and there are some strange noises comin from your place. i know we got off to a pretty  **crummy** start, but it was really  **sweet** of you to spend time with my bro like that. don’t go  **bakin** his heart now. just let him know you’re ok?

20:29 we’re coming over.

You can feel the tears streaming down your face. You don't want to click on the last set of messages. You can feel your chest tightening. You had thought this was all over. 

The asshole:  
18:07 hey beautiful  
18:07 i was just thinking about you  
18:08 aww c’mon babygirl, don’t be like that  
18:08 we both know u cnt stay mad at me

18:17 ????

18:22 don’t be a bitch  
18:22 i bought you flowers. u always used to go on about how much you liked them

18:45 what is wrong with u?  
18:45 u kno better than this  
18:45 i know i taught u better.

19:01 are you for real right now?  
19:01 r u really gonna do this  
19:01 right before valentines day?  
19:02 that’s it i’m coming over

19:18 u better not be fckin some other guy right now

19:22 that’s it isnt it?  
19:22 you slut  
19:23 i should have known you would be out there  
19:24 spreading ur legs for anyone the minute i turned my back

19:27 and to think i was gonna let you apologise  
19:27 n make it up to me

19:48 still nothing to say?  
19:48 fuck this  
19:49 fuck you

19:58 u had ur chance   
19:59 im going to enjoy this

20:15 see u real soon

You drop the phone, your vision going hazy.

“SSSH, SSSH. JUST FOLLOW MY BREATHING. BIG BREATH NOW. COUNT AND BREATHE IN; ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR. FIVE. AND HOLD. ONE. TWO. THREE. THEN OUT. FIVE. FOUR. THREE. TWO. ONE. THAT’S IT. AGAIN.” You can feel his long, bony hand rubbing soothing circles against your back. When did you put your head between your knees? You can feel your chest shuddering, as the panic slowly began to ebb.

“I-I-I.” You try to speak through your gasps.

“DON’T TRY TO SPEAK. TAKE A MOMENT TO RE-CENTRE YOURSELF - THERE’S NO RUSH.” Feeling the bed dip, you try to pull away to give him more room. “SANS ALWAYS DOES THE SAME WHEN HE HAS HIS BAD SPELLS. YOU JUST NEED TO LET IT ALL OUT. I’M GOING TO HUG YOU NOW. IS THAT OK?”

_ How can anyone be this pure and sweet?  _ You manage to nod, once, before sobs overtake you once more.

“IT WILL BE ALRIGHT. MY BROTHER HAS DEALT WITH THE INTRUDER. HE WON’T BE BOTHERING YOU ANYMORE. HUMAN ON MONSTER CRIMES HAVE QUITE THE PENALTY AT THE MOMENT. ONCE WE EXPLAINED THAT THE HUMAN HAD TRIED TO HARM US WHILST WE WERE VISITING A FRIEND, THE NON-ROYAL GUARD WERE MOST HELPFUL.” He feels surprisingly soft for a tall stretch of bones. Warm too. 

“Y-you-” You try again, still unable to get your words out.

“what my bro is trying to say, is you don’t need to worry about that trash anymore.” Peeking up through your fringe, you spot Sans standing in the doorway. Hands firmly in his blue jacket pockets, his eyes lock with yours. “i know it’s not much, but you can stay here with paps until i’ve had a chance to clean the place up a bit. think of it as a chance for a  **clean** slate. if you can find it in you to give this  **bonehead** a second chance?” 

Silence stretches between the three of you. Sans starts to look nervous as the seconds tick by.  “...third chance.”

“huh?”

Smiling at him through watery tears, you meet his eyes. “I believe you mean third chance. Not that I’ve got a  **bone** to pick with you or anything.” 

“he he.”

Papyrus tips his head back, letting out a groan. “NYEEEH! NOT ANOTHER ONE! YOU ARE JUST THE WORST, SANS! LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE”

“aww paps, don’t let it get  **under your skin** . i can feel it in my  **bones** kid; we’re going to get along just fine after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors notes: why is nothing tying up like it’s supposed to? I had an awesome line about your ex smelling like the floor at Grillby’s any everything, but nooo, nothing’s quiiiite following the original plan.


	5. Chapter five: Things will get feta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors notes: a few people pointed out that I had kind of glossed over the self-harm incident in the last chapter. Hopefully, a couple of loose ends will be tied up around that.
> 
> I was gonna hold out until Valentine's day, but... I am impatient trash.

“you, eh, weren’t serious about finding somewhere new to live, were you, pal?” You glance up from the junior jumble Papyrus had lent you. The two brothers had been gone most of the day organising repairs for you. Papyrus even called in to explain the situation to your boss.

_ That’s going to be a fun one to explain when I get in.  _ You rub at the edge of your bandaged arm nervously. The missed day and overly enthusiastic call will be child’s play to explain compared to the healing injury on your arm. Sans has assured you that  _ he knows a  _ **_goat_ ** of all people who should be able to help you feel as good as new before heading back into the office. 

_ Maybe it’s time to finally take a closer look at those counselling pamphlets the lady at the women’s centre gave me…  _ The last time your ex had lost control like this, you’d needed a few dozen stitches to fix the damage. You had refused to give any details on what had exactly happened, but the knowing looks you had received had been more than enough to know your half-hearted excuses weren’t being taken seriously. Honestly, you had been more concerned about what your ex would do when you got home; the clinic hadn’t let him past the waiting room, and you knew you would be in for it by the time you were finally cleared to leave. 

“Well, I was considering it. I didn’t…” You look down again, unable to hold his gaze. For someone to smiley, there is no real sincerity behind that grin. For such a comedian, he seemed far too serious at times. ... _D_ __ear_ sweet fluffy cinnamon rolls. He’s comic sans. How the fudge did I miss that one?  _

“...it’s cause i went right for the jugular, isn’t it? it was never about being scared of paps and me for what we are.”

You look at him quizzically. “What you are?” 

“eh. geeze, there you go provin’ me wrong again. i’m usually a much better judge of character. i’m sorry about the whole, neck thing, kid. and the knife in your kitchen… and the whoopie cushions under all your chairs.”

“The what?” You laugh. 

“eheheh. pretend i didn’t say that last one. mind if i take a load off?” he gestures to the seat beside you. 

“It’s your house.” You point out with a shrug. “I’m sorry again for… everything. I didn’t mean to be such a bother.”

“are you really trying to apologise for being attacked right now?” You peek up at him again. His eyelights are so narrow, they look like they have gone out completely. 

“I shouldn’t bring other people into my messes. I didn’t mean to inconvenience either of you. I didn’t…” you look down, taking a deep breath. Unclenching your hands, you carefully lay the book down before you can rip it. “I didn’t see the messages, or I would have left before he arrived. I know better than to be around when he gets like that. I’m just sorry you got all caught up in this.” digging your nails into the back of your hand, you start picking at the edge of your bandage.  “T-thanks for… everything.” 

A bony hand presses against yours, stopping your nails from digging in any deeper. “you really don’t have to thank me. i’m the one who should-”

“Humans. We can be pretty shitty, you know? As a whole, we aren’t known for being kind, or tolerant, or well, good with anything that’s different from our own tiny, narrow point of view. I really don’t blame you for letting a hint of humanity slip through for a moment there, Sans. I just hope we can… maybe try being friends? Or at least, non-violent acquaintances?” 

“heh. i think we can give that a shot.” Sans pulls his hand away with a grin. This one seems much smaller, but a touch more genuine than his others. You pick up the junior jumble once more, keeping an eye on Sans as he meanders towards the cupboards. Pulling out a snack, he sent you a wink. “i can totally see this friend- **chip** going places.” He holds up a tortilla chip. 

You groan. “You’re  **punbelievable,** you know that?”

“and here i was, thinking things were going to be  **guac** ward between us.”

“Please stop.”

“ehehehe. did that one  **tickle your funny bone?** ” 

Rolling your eyes, you return your attention back to your junior jumble. 

“hey, kid? mind if i ask a favour?” You shake your head. “i think paps wants to ask you something. i know you’ve been having a tough time, what with… everything. Just… at least hear him out? and try to be gentle with him? he’s really just a baby bones in a big package still.”

“Whatever he has to say, I’ll listen, Sans. He’s just a big fluffy cinnamon roll, isn’t he? I can see why you’re so protective of him. You really are a good little-big brother, aren’t you?”  _ Huh. Who knew skeletons blush blue? _

* * *

"MAY I COME IN?” Papyrus knocks loudly on your front door. He had only tried the backdoor once since the two of them had repaired it for you. You had nearly brained the poor thing with a frying pan. Both brothers have since made a more consistent effort to make noise when approaching you.

“Of course, Paps! One second - I just need to put these away.” You call out, putting the lid on the last of the two matching boxes. It had taken you a couple of days to get all of the things you needed (and expedited shipping had been a real bitch, but what’s a little credit card debt between friends?) but they were finally ready. 

“Hey there Papyrus. What’s up? I thought we were going to meet up at your place tonight to watch the MTT Valentines Special? I’m not running late, am I?” You glance back at the hallway clock with a frown. 

“NO, NO. I AM SURE YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN ON TIME. YOU ARE MOST PUNCTUAL! WELL, SECOND MOST PUNCTUAL NEXT TO ME, THE GREAT PAPYRUS! NYEHEHE.” You grinned up at him.  _ He’s such a cutie-doof.  _ “HE-HEM. THAT IS NOT WHY I AM HERE. I… OH, THIS REALLY IS AGAINST THE MANUAL. I REALLY DON’T KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS.” 

You lay a hand on Papyrus's arm, looking up at him in concern. “Papyrus, if something’s wrong, you know you can talk to me anytime.” 

“THANK YOU HUMAN. I KNOW. I JUST… I’M JUST GOING TO SAY IT. MY BROTHER HAS ASSURED ME THAT PUNS ARE THE WAY TO A WOMAN’S HEART. SO… I **_GOUDA_** GIVE IT A TRY. NYEEEH. I... KNOW THESE SOUNDS **_CHEESY_** BUT-BUT… _WILL YOU_ ** _BRIE_** _PLATONICALLY_ MINE _?_ ”

_ What. _

You can’t help it; you laugh. “Platonically yours?” His cheeks positively glow orange. He nods. You lean up, tugging at his shirt to get him to stoop down. With a grin, you press a kiss against his cheek. “Of course, Paps. I couldn’t ask for a better platonic datemate. Just do me a favour - be yourself. No need for the puns, kay? I prefer it when you’re you. One punny skeleton is enough for me. Ok?”

“OK.” 

_ Orange really does look sweet on him.  _

“THAT REMINDS ME. MY LAZY-BONES BROTHER IS TAKING A NAP RIGHT NOW. IF SOMEONE WANTED TO CATCH HIM BEFORE HE LEAVES FOR THAT GREASE-TRAP, NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME. TO TALK ABOUT VALENTINES. NON-PLATONICALLY. OR PLATONICALLY. I WON’T JUDGE.”

_ Maybe he’s not such a babybones after all.  _ Dashing back into the kitchen, you grab the two small boxes before returning. “Thank you, Paps. Really. You’re the best. Happy valentines day.” You press one of the boxes into his hands.

“NYEHEHEH. OF COURSE; I AM THE MAGNIFICENT PAPYRUS AFTER ALL!”

In your rush to catch Sans, you forget to grab you forget to grab your shoes. The grass feels cold and damp between your toes as you hurry next door. Pushing your way past one gate, then the next, you come to a stop on their porch.

_ I can do this. I can do this. I… oh who am I kidding? I’m not ready. There's no way- _

“hey buddy. you gonna knock anytime today? or are you just going to  **leaf** without coming in?” You let out a loud squeak, lashing out with both arms. You watch in horror as your precious cargo goes sailing towards Sans head. A faint blue haze surrounds the small package, stopping it in its tracks. You let out a sigh of relief.

“You need a BELL. I swear to god Sans, I am getting you one for your birthday.” You laugh nervously. Smirking at you, he scratches absentmindedly at his stained white tee.

“you just missed paps. i don’t know where he was going in such a hurry, but i’m sure he’ll be back soon, if you wanna wait for him inside? he never misses a mtt special.” Sans holds the door open for you. 

“Ah… I, er, actually came here to talk with you. If... if you have a moment?” you feel your courage wavering.

“of course kid. everything ok? you haven’t been getting any more unwanted messages or house calls?” His eyelights narrow.

You shake your head. “No, no. I just… wanted to give you something.” You point to the small box he is holding. “If you don’t like them, it’s ok. I just… maybe if you open them, it’ll make more sense?” You plead.

He quirks a browbone at you,  _ seriously - how do they do that?  _ Before opening the box with a shrug. “sure kid, no problem-oh.” 

A tense silence falls between you as Sans gently pulls out one of the small pieces between his fingers. It had taken you a while to modify the recipe, but you think you’d finally got it down. 

“It’s kind of a human tradition, to give flowers or candy for valentines day, to show someone that you like them. A dozen red roses are pretty much the ultimate sign that you… like them. I didn’t think you’d really be a flowers kind of guy, though. And Paps mentioned you weren’t really that into regular candy.” You glanced up at him nervously. His eyelights looked like pinpricks. 

_ Is that a good sign? Or a bad one?  _ “They’re ketchup flavour. I… heard that was your favourite?” You glance nervously at the tiny ketchup bottle-shaped chocolates. It had been a nightmare trying to find the right shape moulds, not to mention getting the ratio of white chocolate to ketchup just right.

“I think you’re a bit of a dick to be honest. You don’t always give people the benefit of the doubt, and you’re messy as hell from what I’ve seen of your place. But… you’re a good guy. You’re the sweetest big brother, and… I’d like to get to know you a bit better. You could say I’ve been a little bit **_bonely_** since, well… everything. It’s been really nice getting to make new friends again. I was thinking maybe it might be nice to see where things go?”

The silence stretches uncomfortably between you. “... I totally misjudged this, didn't I? Pretend I didn’t say a thing. I’ll just be hiding in my place until-” As you turn to leave, a hand shoots out to grab your wrist. Gently, Sans grasps the delicate skin, mindful not to touch the tip of the large, pink-red mark that would soon begin to flake and scar. 

“you really want to  **jump my bones** that much, heh?” 

“Not really. I don’t know yet. I just want to see that genuine smile of yours some more, not this awful fake one.” He looked stunned for a moment, before his wide grin shrunk to something smaller and more genuine. 

“i think i can manage that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s notes: well… that’s it, I think? Thank you so much for reading. I really appreciate it if you stuck with me and read this. This, I am somewhat ashamed to say, maybe the first fanfic I’ve actually fully completed and uploaded in the… years of writing under various pseudonyms and fandoms. I usually lose my nerve or train of thought in there somewhere. So, it may not be long or impressive; but I’m kinda proud of me right now. I hope you enjoyed reading this even a little bit as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Let me know if you would be interested in hearing more from the same universe around other holidays or actual dating antics. I’m a little tempted to write something for Easter. I’d also totally be up for requests if that’s still a thing people do.
> 
> I’ve got a much longer, multi-chapter piece in mind that centres more around Reader/Sans and potentially a touch of Reader/Grillby or Reader & Grillby (of even Grillby/Reader/Sans depending on how things go), centring around depression, support groups, and finding connections. I might play around with both (or either) depending on what people may like to read~
> 
> Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you’re interested, these are the kinds of biscuits I had in mind for the MC baking in the opening chapter.  
> Also...that turned a little darker than I expected? Like, the ex was meant to be a Chad-style douche, not a full-on abusive dickhole. But apparently, things escalated. Also: Sans doesn’t seem overly Sansy right now. That’ll change as things go, honest.


End file.
